


Hold On

by BWJournal



Category: Castle
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWJournal/pseuds/BWJournal
Summary: I saw the commercial for the season finale. You did too. She's wet, running, he says I love you twice and magic happens. But I threw in some more angst, made some creative choices. And yes, that Bill Roe/Rob Bowman style of lighting that comes from XF!





	Hold On

There's this tiny little scar on her left index finger. She can't remember where and why she got it, but she imagines it's from some odd ricochet of her gun in the early days, when she was just meandering as a beat cop.

Every day in that squad car made her think that this might be the last one, the day she would die. And then the next day would be worse. But she had already had the worst day of her life. Whatever happened after that shadowy day was just a slow and quiet hum until she found the one person… the one that robbed her life of any other purpose than finding sense where there was none.

As she hangs from the ledge, she wonders, 'Could this have tended any other way?' In a way where she wouldn't feel like everything she had fought for was slipping from her grasp, very much like her grip on the edge. Her fingers seem like strange parts of her that she can't even recognize… and being there, feeling like there's nothing else to fight for… why would she command them to hang on to an existence that she has managed to destroy?

She closes her eyes. Why shouldn't she let go?

* * *

**38 hrs earlier.**

The light from the street filters through her window. It's raining and the soft tapping of the drops lulled her to sleep longer than she had wanted to. She turns on her side and stares at the other side of her bed, empty. It has been empty for a while. She won't admit it, but sometimes she wonders how her sheets would smell if her geranium clothes mist mixed with some of that woodsy aftershave Castle wears. She wonders how the sheets would feel. Soft, warm and wrinkled, by something other than a boring, restless night of choppy sleep… and then she blinks and all that's left is a pillow that sits untouched, and a side of the bed where the covers are still, pretty much, neatly tucked.

She knows change is near, if she could only take the one last step. He knows it now. They both do, and they've known for a while. These games that they play, not only childish and dangerous, are making her waste the precious time she doesn't own anymore.

As she drives to the precinct, she makes a promise to herself that by the end of the day, things will change. She already knows there's no wall, but she has to tell him, she has to let him know that he's invited to the other side.

Kate Beckett walks into the 12th precinct, she can feel the tension around her. They've brought in a suspect. She can see Esposito in the interrogation room, and Ryan, standing guard at the door. Everyone else is looking at her and before she can even ask, Gates is calling her in.

"I want you to take the day off." She says, somewhat commanding, somewhat steely.

"Is there a particular reason why I should accept this suggested vacation?" Beckett seizes Gates. "Why is Esposito screaming at that perp and why wasn't I called in?"

"It was my order… I called it as I saw fit."

Gates reticence tells her everything she needs to know. "This has to do with my mother's case…" She can feel the blood beginning to boil in her veins. "You have no right to take me off this case!"

"It's done, Beckett… And I would think that if you were able to keep a level head, you wouldn't react like this. You'd understand that you're too close." Kate stares at a point above Gates head, past the blinds, past the curious detectives and beat cops that have been making sad excuses to walk past the window and see what becomes of her. 'Breathe in, Kate' She chants to herself. 'Keep it together.'

She regards Gates with one last angry and stern look. Words are no longer needed.

On her way out, Esposito begins a sentence she doesn't even hear… because all she can think of, is betrayal.

* * *

His phone has been ringing off the hook but he can't pick it up. Not now that he's so deep into this. He can't listen to her voice. She can see through him, even when she's not in the same room. It's been two hours of ignored calls since Ryan gave him the heads up. By now, she would know for sure that he's involved in this.

If there were any favors to be called, if there was a point where even he would consider he was too far in, if there was ever a time where he knew this would make Kate hate him irreparably, this was that time.

He had promised and he had broken that promise… Once again.

At this point, he didn't care. Even when he knew that she was very close to being the Kate from before that bullet scarred her heart, before the bitterness and the guilt made her shun him away, lie to him and hide under layers of solitude… even now when he knew they were very close to finally getting through to each other, he would rather not have her. Not if it meant that she would get to live her life as she once only dreamed she could.

"Mr. Castle, you know that you're not playing with _vun_ of your writer friends." The broken accent of this man made him remember an episode of Rocky and Bullwinkle that Alexis loves. It's all rolling 'Rs' and interchanged 'Vs' and 'Ws'. "I'm not playing poker _vith_ you. I don't like to bluff."

"And I wouldn't dream of treating this matter as a game, Pudovnik." Castle can feel that his nerves are about to make an appearance, his palms sweat and his pulse is beating a steady rhythm behind his left eye. He needs to rush through this, pull it off like a band-aid. "Do we have a deal, then?"

"You keep her _avay,_ and I see what I can do to set him straight and apart… but like I said: This is not my _var_." The grudging man takes a deep drag of his cigar, examining the wisps of delicate fire on the end of it. "She's angered many people, just by surviving. Not only him, not only the people she's unveiled… It goes beyond that"

"I appreciate that you understand my situation. I assure you that I understand yours." Castle can only hope this man has ever been crazy enough about a person to know that right now he's a man with no ego. Where that resided, there's only space for every thought he ever formulated about Kate.

The man gets up from the leather armchair; his bodyguards stand attentive.

"Mr. Castle, even in the frozen Russia, _vith_ no fire, some men were lucky to find a thought that _vould_ make their heart still pump warm blood through their veins." He pauses, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly. "Some of them were even luckier. To not live on simple imagination. You keep _vriting_ after all is done. I like your villains, you know?"

They exit the "Haunt" and Castle knows that he has just discovered that the devil might have a soul. Still, he's the devil indeed. He walks behind the bar and pours himself an extra large shot of whiskey. Perhaps the burn of alcohol making it's way down his throat will ease the burn of guilt in his gut.

* * *

"Kate, please listen to me!" Esposito tries to bark over her rant. "We couldn't do it that way, and you know it!"

"What do you mean you couldn't?" Her veins are now visible in anger. "I'm not a child, I can take care of myself!"

The perp they had picked up knew the shooter. They finally had a lead, but with that also came a warning. He was on the hunt… for the one that got away. She knew the moment that she saw the patrol car parked outside her building. She knew that she should be scared, that she should probably call her Dad, but right now her anger only knew one name: Castle.

He hadn't responded to her calls all morning, and that could only mean that he was probably the most involved of all in this.

"Kate!" Esposito's cry snaps her back from the mental rant. "Please understand…"

"Where is he?"

"Who?" She can't help but scoff. Esposito knows better than to try her again.

Sighing, he continues. "He was the one that got the tip. He called us at 5am. He hasn't been here, but Ryan talked to him. He said that he had to do some things before he could figure out what… I mean… Shit, Kate. He's talked to Pudovnik."

"…what to make up. To lie to me once again." She was angry… but even more than that, she felt disappointed. She thought that this time he was respecting her as the strong person she knew herself to be.

She looks through the window and there he is, talking to the patrol guys. "Goodbye, Javi. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

He looks up and their eyes met, and in that very instant she feels that wall going up once again, higher than ever. Each carefully removed brick is back in place and fortified with a extra layer of cement.

He knows what he is walking into, but he can't go down without a fight. His soaked boots weigh him down as he climbs the stairs to her apartment, or maybe it's his remorse.

He knocks on the door and finds that it has already been opened. She's standing there in the middle of her living room, gun in hand. She doesn't say a word; she doesn't even look at him. Her eyes are focused on something. Something probably embedded on the hard wood floor - or maybe in her resolve, deep in her psyche. He knows she is holding onto a very thin thread of patience and sanity… all because of him. He enters, slowly. She paces her space with resolve.

"Kate," he says, almost in a whisper. "We need to talk."

"I already know what I need to know."

"No, you don't. You need to get out of town for a while."

She lets out a tired sigh. "I wasn't lying to you," she begins, still not meeting his eyes. "It wasn't a cheap excuse. I said, 'When I feel safe again, I'll deal with it.' - I meant it"

It's what he feared. Years of carefully winning her trust, her heart. Gone in a single phrase. "Meant it." Past tense.

"Why did you have to get involved?" Anger brews in her voice. "Why, if I asked you to let it go, did you do exactly the opposite?"

He lets her speak, knowing he needs to tread lightly. He knows that she's mad. Kate Beckett is on the verge of a moment she might regret and he knows it. He wonders if she does.

"I'm tired of having to justify myself." She continues, finally meeting his gaze. "I'm tired of you treating me like a child." The silence deepens, as he struggles to find the words to explain himself.

"You said you wanted to be around for when my walls came crumbling down…" His gaze is full of guilt. He bites his lip, knowing he somewhat deserves all of this. For Kate Beckett, she's more than enough to protect herself. She doesn't need saviors, and that's probably what he still doesn't understand.

"I still want to see them come down" He probes. "But you need to come with me. We need to get out of town for a while… Until it pays off."

"Until it pays off?" The gears in her head start to spin in a different direction.

"I spoke with some people. You're protected for now, but they can't guarantee it"

"You cut a deal for my life? Why the hell would you do this?"

"Cause I love you…"

The silence is so thick that he can hear his heart pumping. He has been in so much danger in these past four years, his life on the line many times, her blood in his hands, but in this moment, he really feels like there's something unknown that is coming. Something he won't be able to control.

He takes a step towards her.

"Kate…"

Before he can reach her, she lifts her gun to him; her pulse steady and an icy look in her eyes. He stops in his tracks.

"Kate," he whispers.

"YOU BETRAYED ME!" Her scream feels as if it comes from a place within her that is filled only with hurt and hate. Anger and frustration.

"You went behind my back, you lied to me, you treated me like someone that is half your worth! You made a deal with them? With the people that I want to bring to justice?"

He can see the tears welling up, but he knows she won't let them fall.

She's still aiming the gun at him as he tries to explain.

"You have to stop this investigation, Kate. They will kill you." He takes one step towards her. "I can't lose you again. I saw you die. You died in my arms." The plea in his voice is not worded but it's evident. "What would you do if you knew that regardless of what you did, whatever you do will always hurt the person you love the most? Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think it's easy to make peace with the fact that you could hate me forever?"

Her jaw is so tense that he can see the ripple of the muscles as she concentrates on him. He takes another step toward her, and another, until he can feel the barrel of the gun on his chest, her eyes still in a heated contest with his gaze.

He slowly puts his hand over the safety until it clicks into place. He lowers the gun, taking it from her. Just a beat… and another, until she lowers her eyes and says what she has said before, what he was expecting.

"I want you to tell me everything you know, I want you to give me my gun back and I want you out of my life. For good this time" She steps away from him with haste.

"Kate, please…"

"Castle, tell me now!"

"You want me to tell you? Fine. I will, but you have to hear something else first."

She stands defiant.

"Look, when you came into my life, nothing made sense. I thought it did, I thought I had found it in Alexis, in my books, in my success… and in some ways I had. But my life was worth half of nothing before you began being a part of me."

"Stop that, Castle" She paces in front of him like a caged animal. "Stop it! You can't manipulate me anymore! This is my fight. Mine!"

"You can't do this alone, Kate. We're all doing this for you... With you"

"I never asked you to fight my battles. I never told you I couldn't bear my own pain…" In a swift move she grabs the gun from him again. "You have no right. Leave. Now! I don't ever want to see you again!"

"I won't!" His frustration leaks out of every pore of his skin, his eyes burn with unshed tears. "I love you, Kate. You know this, and if this means anything to you… please don't do this. I'm begging you."

"It's done, Castle." The disgust in her voice its almost as sour as the pain he's feeling square in the middle of his chest. "Some way to honor a partner..."

"A partner? Seriously?" He says between scoffs. "I'm more than your partner!"

"A partner would never lie! A partner would never assume to preside over the other's fate!" There's almost a tinge of incredulity in her voice. "If you can't even do that, I don't think you can be anything else. You think that everything is solved in childish ways… but its not."

Castle can't help but stare at her. With every blink, a stream of tears leave paths from his weary eyes down his cheeks.

"I may be a child, but maybe I know a thing or two about partnership that you don't." He comes close to her, too close, so much she can feel his ragged breath on her face. "I may have lied to you, I may have made decisions but there's this thing about partners… You need another person to have one, and you need that person to be able to go to the ends of the earth without ever looking back or second-guessing."

Their eyes search each other. Castle can feel the hesitation in Kate but she won't let go.

"You want me away. Fine." He brings his thumb to her chin. "But good luck finding someone that won't ever ask for the destination… I would go anywhere as long as it is with you." He can see it in her eyes as she lets go of a breath she has been holding.

His eyes focus on hers, a mere inch from her lips …and he takes it all in a kiss that leaves nothing but clashing feelings and makes her pulse race even higher than before. His lips don't demand more. They are a caress. A physical reminder to her that he means it all.

He breaks away and she stares at his lips, unable to meet his gaze. He nods. It's done.

Castle closes the door behind him. He feels like walking home, he might need the rain to cover his own frustrations.

* * *

She can feel the drops on her hands. They almost feel like tears, and she tries to remember of a time when she didn't have to hide her own.

She swore to herself that no one would see that side of her. That she wouldn't give anyone the pleasure of seeing her come apart in pieces, like that fateful day. She needed to be stronger than she ever thought she could be; back when her own little world was just one of a protected child. A child that had no perspective of what real life would be and the horrors that she would discover in it.

Many times, life felt like hanging from this ledge. Moments where the only thing holding her to sanity was the sheer resolve to get to the end, to find the truth behind the lies. One end of her holding onto something, while her own weight pulled her to a definite end.

What has she done besides living her life for others at this point? What does she have to account for her time in this world? She has not lived for herself but for a failed pursuit that has only buried her deeper into the rabbit hole of deception and harm.

Not even the people she held dear could amount to what she thought they were. So much betrayal, so much deception… the sky cries her tears and her right hand slips slowly from the ledge.

* * *

**12th Precinct – 14hrs ago**

Castle sits on his chair staring at the board in front of him. The whole place seems oblivious to his inner struggle.

"Have you heard from her?" Esposito's voice startles him.

"No. Not since last night." There's nothing in the board that will solve this case. "I need to get her out of here. She doesn't understand. I'm running out of time"

"Whatever deal you made, Castle, it's not going to mean anything if you don't get through to her…" He sits on her chair, and it seems out of place.

"I don't think she would even understand if I explained." There's nothing more to say. "She asked me to leave her. And I will…I will. Just not yet."

The sound of the elevator goes unnoticed but not her steps. He could recognize those anywhere.

Kate walks past them and barges into Gates' office.

"Excuse me, Beckett. I'm on the phone here." Gates isn't pleased but Kate doesn't care.

"This won't take long." Kate takes her gun, her badge and her ID and lays them on the table. The men stand behind her in shock.

"You need to be very careful about what you're doing here, Beckett." Gates warns, but deep down is not a threat, it's a plea masked in authority.

"I'm resigning. I don't see the point in wearing a symbol of something that I don't believe in," Kate responds with resolve. "I don't need this anymore."

Castle cannot help it. He knows what she's doing. She's shutting down; she's not going to let anyone be a part of her mission. Misguided as it may be.

"Kate, don't do this."

Her gaze snaps to his at his voice. There are no words. Her stare says it all. She's too far-gone into her own purpose. She walks past them, taking a last look at her desk and the board.

"Its all about trust."

And she walks out.

* * *

He's observed her… every single inch of her… all of these months. He knows how he will do it, and he won't do it in a single shot like he first intended, when she hadn't provoked so much.

This is not about getting the work done anymore. She walks out of the precinct and he knows today is the day everything ends. His long-standing relationship with Kate Beckett will finally have a conclusion. Not in the public eye like he had envisioned. - A glory shot in the middle of the celebration of a buffoon – but instead a more intimate angle on what would be appropriate to their bond.

Kate Beckett will die today.

* * *

She will demand answers even if this is going to destroy this so called deal that Castle thinks he has made. She's past the border of common sense and she doesn't care. She doesn't need to respond to anyone but herself, and she's fine with that.

Pudovnik's bar is silent during the day. His goons scurrying around, noticing her as she walks in, purpose in her step, no time to beat around the bush.

"You're brave to come here _vith_ no man by your side." He says while puffing on his Cuban.

"I don't have time to chit chat with you." She barks. "Who is he and where can I find him?"

"I find funny that while one of you pleads me to keep you _avay_ , you come here to ask me to take you to him."

"I can take care of my own problems." She looks around herself, to the men listening in. "So, what's it going to be?"

"I can tell you… I _vill_ tell you." He says in between a smirk, his accent thickening. "I _vill_ still collect my part of the deal."

"I have nothing to do with whatever it is that you agreed with Castle."

"Very well." He scribbles a few words on a napkin and hands it to her. " You might as well have your death sentence in your hands… "

"We'll see about that." She won't give him the pleasure of seeing her waiver. She tucks the napkin in her pocket and starts for the door.

"Just before you go, Detective Beckett. I'm curious…" She regards him with a tired look.

"If you had your life spared because of Mr. Castle," he continues. " _Vhy_ come back and break a gentleman's deal?"

"It was my mother's blood that was spilled." Her voice is cool and calculated.

"I see." He nods in some thoughtful reflection. Kate turns her back to him and walks away.

"It was your blood though in the grass that day…" He replies. "Your blood in… what do they call it… ah, yes... Your blood in Mr. Castle's embrace."

He sees her leave. He knows she's looking for him and he thinks that this time it's almost like they're on the same page at last. She's coming to him and this encounter might finally give him the resolution he's wanted all this time. It's almost a waste that she's the one that's going to break this courtship into a more blunt relationship.

* * *

When she enters the building, he knows what she's going to find.

Beckett pulls open the heavy door of the industrial lift. The old hinges complain loudly as they snap into place, and the span of an empty factory opens in front of her. Debris lies here and there. A sign of what is probably years of abandonment. 'Typical,' she thinks. 'Why would it be any different?'

She walks to the far end; plastic sheeting walls have been set up hanging from the ceiling. She grabs for her personal Glock. Deafening silence is only broken by her own heels hitting the dusty concrete and the rustling of the leather of her jacket. She takes a deep breath and pushes through.

And there she sees it.

Her life in what could be a recollection of visual memories, of moments even she has forgotten. In the middle of this makeshift living space with a cot and a small propane burner, lies her life in black and white, in blown up prints, in maps, in discarded elements from old crime scenes, in burned out trinkets from her old apartment. Her life in one corner of a desolated factory; it all fits here, under the vision of a man that has sworn to destroy these very moments.

"It took a lot to get to know you," she hears the voice boom from behind. "Its almost fascinating, everything I had to learn."

She could turn around and begin this confrontation right now, but something inside of her wants to listen.

"There were so many times that I was just standing right there, so close I could smell your perfume." He says, and she can feel him getting closer, familiarity in his voice.

'Why isn't he taking the shot right now?'

"Why delay the inevitable then?" She taunts.

"It was more entertaining to make you believe that you could fight your destiny." His statement is solemn. "It's not about a simple desire to kill, you know? I'm not that easy."

She turns around slowly and the effect of her realization hits her full force.

"Hi, Kate." He says with that striking smile that swept her off her feet at one point. "Long time, no see."

Right there, in front of her, FBI Agent Will Sorenson.

She wants to utter words, but her anger has rendered them into a tremor she can't fight back. He comes to her, like the Cheshire cat he always seemed to be.

"How? Why?" She mutters in disbelief.

"Why not?" He walks to her. In his hand is a paper bag. "Here," he offers. "I remember you like sprinkles."

She swats the bag from him and lands on the floor.

"I would had taken you for a better mannered girl," he says collecting the bag from the floor and setting it neatly on the worktable by his side.

"I don't owe you any manners." She says, her voice starting to gain with the rage boiling in her gut.

"You certainly didn't think that way when you thought I was a bright and shiny FBI agent out to save a little girl," his voice also growing in defiance. "Just like you, defenseless."

"It all makes sense," she says in realization. "Your hit wasn't a casualty, it was a diversion."

"I needed a clean exit, before your adorable pet got too close." He says, eyes flicking to a picture of Castle in one of their crime scenes.

* * *

"We've got a hit on her car" Esposito calls out. "Patrol caught it at the Fernell Bakery Factory - Deserted building in the meatpacking district. Squads are on their way."

"How long 'til we get there?" Castle rides in the back, impatient. Ryan sets the cherry out of his window.

"How I drive?… ten minutes."

* * *

"You know, I would had taken him for a crutch, and he is, don't get me wrong." He says in a smug smile. "But what's surprising, it's his guts."

Kate slowly points her gun at him, to find him pulling his gun much faster than she had foreseen.

"Oh, party pooper." For a minute they just stare at each other in a duel. It isn't until Kate hugs the trigger that he pushes her to the floor. Her gun slides and lands somewhere under a pile of discarded rags.

He pushes the barrel to her sternum, digging on her bone.

"I wanted to land it here" He pushes a little more. It hurts but she won't concede. "Right… here" Its digging on her flesh now, burning the still tender flesh. "But you moved."

She tries to calm herself down and survey what she can do. She's not going to turn into his chew toy. He pins her arms with his knees and with his free hand caresses her hair, clearing her face.

"You were always so beautiful." She stares at him in pure rage and in that moment she finds all the strength she can muster to push her hips off the ground and push him off her.

She reaches for her gun to no avail; he's too fast and grabs her by her legs. She kicks him until she sets free and runs to exit the plastic sheeting, tearing it loose and covering him with it. One kick, two kicks, he seems out of it. She looks for her gun but it's buried somewhere underneath the translucent plastic. Then she sees it, the propane tank, she reaches for it and breaks the line, the gas hissing out of it immediately. She looks for a match, she's going to end this right here, right now… And then she hears the click of the hammer cocking back.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." His perfectly square jaw, now covered in bruises.

"You can't shoot, we'd both blow."

"Wouldn't that be the perfect ending?" He says, still pointing at her. "You learn to appreciate the irony after all this time."

He grabs her by the arm. "Let's take a walk. You'll like the view." He pushes her in front of him towards the staircase.

* * *

Squad cars swarm the parking lot downstairs. Dozens of uniforms spread out with a battering ram and assault gear. Esposito, Ryan and Castle arrive as the swat team tackles the front door.

"You better sit tight, Castle." Esposito stops him as he downs one of the Kevlar vests.

"You gotta be kidding" He's not going to let himself out of this. "She needs me."

"She needs you alive." Ryan pats him on the shoulder and pushes him inside the car. Castle doesn't want to admit it but it doesn't sit right to just go full force on this, something is off. Esposito and Ryan grab their gear and follow after the black suited assault team.

* * *

"You can always count on the boys to come in on time." Will says as he pushes Kate towards the structure under the old sign for the bakery. "I figured you'd like to die enjoying the view."

"The only view I need is the one of you rotting in hell, you son of a bitch!" She tries to slap him but he punches her hard on the ribs with the handle of the gun, knocking the wind out of her.

"Why do you have to make everything so goddamned difficult?" He grabs her by the hair and she claws onto him, crawling on top of him and throwing him to the ground, blowing punches until her knuckles feel raw, the gun falling astray on the ground. She can hear him absently laughing at her, and then he rolls her on her back, so close to the edge she instantly feels the vertigo rise like bile. There's blood in her mouth, the coppery taste making her nauseous.

"Let's end this, Kate."

* * *

The team makes it's way up the seven flights of stairs. Castle can hear their steps like an army, stomping on the concrete. He has to find a way to get to her. He grabs one of the radios, walks out of the car and around the building where he sees the fire escape; he reaches for it, and then he hears Beckett's screams. She's on the roof.

"Esposito! Ryan!" He tries to get through. "Guys, they're on the roof!"

The crackle of the radio on the other end doesn't let him hear, but they're just about to break through the door to the last floor, the one where the fresh footsteps had led them.

* * *

One guy rams the door.

"CLEAR!"

"Detective Beckett!" They scream.

"Kate!" Esposito and Ryan feel somewhat nervous at the silence in the room.

"Do we go in, sir?" a lieutenant asks.

"Do we even know how many people are there?" Ryan asks Esposito.

"I don't want to chance it. Fire the stun grenade." Orders the superior officer. The man takes the safety off. "Ready!"

* * *

On the roof, Sorenson and Beckett struggle on the edge of the precipice, when an explosion from underneath separates them. The whole metal structure above them buckles and collapses. Kate watches as the pieces fall, one after the other in the middle of a rumble that seems to last forever. It seems like slow-motion as one of the rods impales Sorenson straight through the chest.

Everything around her shakes, and she slips on a few rods by her feet, loosing her balance and dropping off the edge.

* * *

Castle has to grab onto the railing to keep from falling himself at the sheer force of the explosion. He gets up from the landing. The fall from that point would be enough feet to kill him instantly. Drops start to fall on him; the rain has finally caught up with them. He keeps climbing up, urgency in his steps. He cannot leave her up there.

Every fiber in him tells him that she needs him. He can hear the stunned men screaming orders through the shattered windows, but he keeps going. He must get to her.

He can't hear her voice and that scares him more than anything. Every step up the ladder raises his heart rate and he wishes it were because he's spent beyond exertion but it's really the fear that he can feel welling inside him. 'Just a few more steps, just a few more', his mind chants, as the rain makes it more difficult to not slip on the rust covered steps.

* * *

There are some times when she wishes that she had lived life a little bit different. Most of those times are when she hears the stories he shares with her in the car, while they're getting coffee, even when he just speaks of the latest prank he played on Alexis.

She would love to play laser tag with them sometime, even though she's sure this will be the end of the line. This was probably her last game of tag and she still didn't get to smell how geranium and wood smell when mixed together. All she can smell now, is concrete and rain.

She concentrates on her dad's watch. She knows it's possible her mind is playing games, but she swears the ticking is slowing. She doesn't want to look down, but she can feel the last of her strength slip away. She wishes she could have told him, she wishes things wouldn't have been this way. She wishes that for once she did have something to look forward to, more than the wish she's starting to have. 'Please god, make this fast, make me slip and fall once and for all.'

She could make it on her own terms and let go. There won't be a knight in shining armor coming for her. Her index finger can't hold on anymore, 'This is it', she thinks, and she closes her eyes.

And then she smells it. Wood and sweat… and her partner.

* * *

**96 hrs later**

Manhattan feels anew every time that a storm passes by, when it rains enough that it no longer smells like burnt break pads and diesel exhaust. The gentle breeze hits just right, rocking the leaves that are just starting bush around the branches. The puddles mirror the mix of the concrete jungle and the scattered green that pushes through the city. The rain is not over, but it feels like the worst has passed.

For the past four days, he has been standing by his loft's window, just looking out, waiting for that signal that tells him that everything will be okay. The rain still feels like tears, and he doesn't remember ever being this torn about something. She's safe but at the same time they never will be. All because of him, it was indeed a big mistake.

"You should stop beating yourself up over something you cannot change anymore" He sometimes wonders if his mom could be a bit more maternal. "Chin up, kiddo"

Alexis and Martha have been cooking, playing around the house and trying to offer him some pampering but he doesn't feel like it, he doesn't want to talk. He almost lost her again, regardless that it was her decision to go after Will on her own. He can't help to wonder that if he had told her the truth, things would have gone a lot different. Esposito wouldn't have a set of broken ribs, Ryan wouldn't have a concussion, and well, she wouldn't have more scars to add to the list of physical and emotional wounds that she carries deep within.

He wouldn't fear what it is to happen of them now.

Gates didn't even have to find reasons to kick him out of the precinct; he knew this would be the drawback. He might have saved Kate, but ever since she left the hospital, he has no news about her. His fear is that she's gone back to the dark place where she hid herself when her life was in jeopardy. His fear is that she has built that wall back up. His fear is that every chance they had to finally let go of the past has evaporated. His fear is that there might not be an "us" anymore.

"You can always go by her place, you know?" Alexis is right, but he wants to at least give her space. He can only imagine what she must be going through. He's dead, but that doesn't mean that her pursuit is near over. She just managed to make justice for herself. That, most days, is more than enough, but for Kate Beckett its nowhere near what she wants or deserves.

"Do you want to come with us to the movies?" Alexis tries again. She has never seen her dad this depressed. "It's a back to back of Orson Welles…"

He hugs her. She means well.

"As much as I would love to feel entertained, I think I'm not done with my pity party over here." He kisses her forehead and watches them pick up to leave.

"Dear," Martha says. "I was never sure of anything with you, but of this I'm sure. You love this woman as if you need her by your side to breathe. So you either go get your oxygen fix, or you better start growing some gills, 'cause it might be raining outside, but you're drowning in here." She kisses him on the cheek, dons her raincoat and closes the door behind her.

He turns to the window again. It is indeed pouring outside.

* * *

She can't help her feelings. She can't. She's been playing absently with the ring that dangles from her neck and she wonders when will she finally have all the pieces to this puzzle.

Her ribs hurt. Her knuckles are purple; more scratches now accompany her rookie scar. There's not a part of her that doesn't hurt, inside and out. She rather thinks that for a lifetime of pain, her encounter with Will was rather quick.

She wishes she could have made him suffer as much as she has. She wishes she could have made him feel how this pain feels and why it's wrong, but maybe that is too naive on her part.

She looks at her fingers and she can still feel the sharp edge of the ledge. She's scared of it, because she still feels the vertigo pumping through her veins. She's scared of herself, of what would have happened if he hadn't been there. And being at this point, and feeling like this, makes her wonder if it wouldn't have been preferable to just let go.

'There will still be consequences," she remembers his words. This is not the innocent notion that killing the evil guy will end all suffering. She still wonders what will be of her … and him. He brought her back when she felt that everything was lost. She had been wrong. She would like to believe she's always right, but the truth is that she couldn't be more wrong and she doesn't know if she can forgive herself.

He would go to the ends of the Earth for her… and he did.

It would be so much easier if she didn't have to swallow her ego. It would be so much easier if she didn't have to explain herself. It would be so much easier if she didn't know what crossed her mind when she thought that she would meet her demise. What scares her is that she was willing to go.

She's tired of fighting, of not finding an end to all of this, of turning one stone to find that a hundred others will remain untouched, unreachable to her.

She wonders why would he fight for her when she was ready to stop. Why her? Why her with all her walls and her reservations, with all her lies. Why them with all their immaturity? With all the hurt… Why keep going when a possible death sentence looms above them…

What was Castle's trade off? She realizes that she never found out and he put his life in danger for her, with no conditions attached. Was he also ready to let go?

Just the thought of it makes her heart stop and her lungs burn in pain. "Was he trading himself off for me?" She whispers to herself.

Pudovnik had said that he would 'Collect' regardless of the outcome, but what was it that he was to collect?

* * *

The vibration startles him in the dead silence of his home. His phone is somewhere in the living room, under all the mess of take out and games.

"Damn it! Papercut!" Castle throws the paper wrapper and there it is… her name on the screen of his phone.

"Hello…" He can feel his pulse racing. She called first. He didn't have to suffer this torture anymore. A few seconds go by and he fears this was actually a pocket dial.

"Hi." She clears her throat; he knows she does that when she's nervous. "Hi, Castle"

"Hey… I was wondering when it would be a good time to check up on you." 'And wondering about so many other things.' "How are you?"

"I'm okay. Still a slight headache… Nothing that I didn't expect." And she thinks, 'Aside probably being four days dead.'

"Too many bruises?" He wants to make it casual. Let her take this conversation to where she wants it.

"Yes, but they will fade, as usual." Another throat clearing and some static on the line. "I, actually, I kinda called because I wondered about something, Castle."

"What's that?"

"Why do you think Nikki Heat is a heroine?" The rain has begun to gain some strength.

"What do you mean?" This is an odd choice of conversation for this phone call, he thinks.

"I mean, if I'm the muse for this character, how can I be a heroine when I'm such a flawed person, when I fear myself some days, when I let my emotions run me down like this? That I put my life and other people's in danger on a careless streak?" There's a shaky breath hitching and he can hear it through the line. "How can I be a heroine when all I wanted to do was take justice in my own hands and end it all?"

Castle sits down and running a hand through his hair, takes a deep breath of his own. This is what she's decided tonight, look for the answers.

"Who ever told you that heroes are perfect from the get-go? They're probably the most flawed of beings." He can almost feel her confused stare. "You can't be perfect if you haven't lived enough. You can't be perfect if you haven't made enough mistakes to learn from them and choose the right path."

There's silence on the line but he knows she's there. Why does she doubt herself?

"Look, I once thought that living life was about dodging all the situations that would get me in trouble. And then Alexis happened. If anything, she has taught me that the best I can do is make mistakes. Granted, most of the mistakes I've inflicted on her, and God bless her for being able to forgive me, but we've both learned from them, we've both taken the best from each fall out."

"You have certainly screwed up a number of times with her…" he can hear the beginnings of a snicker in her tone.

"Yeah, well-"

"I'm sorry." She cuts him off.

"I'm sorry, too" Now it's he who has the hitched and shaky breath.

"I never intended to hurt you… but I just…" Her voice dimming through the static.

"It's okay, Kate." He knows it now. "I know now. I know you wanted this to be your own battle. I was out of line breaking your trust. I was just… I was just so scared."

"Did you know it was him?"

"I did. We did, but we only found out that day, when I made the deal." 'Please don't ask what it was. Please don't ask.' "I have to say, that I also have to apologize for something, something I had not seen from this perspective until now…"

"What's that?"

"I wasn't a fair partner either, because in keeping you out of my plans I probably made it all worse." He sighs. "I should have probably understood that we're in this together. It might be your fight, it might be your battle, and it might be your war… And in trying to make it also mine, I pushed too much, I wanted you out of this war, but I know now that neither can fight without the other… and I'm sorry for trying."

He knows she's listening. He knows that indeed after everything that has happened he has nothing to lose. Every clandestine move has been revealed, every wound re-opened and aired; he doesn't really have any more secrets for Kate Beckett.

"I like it when we're partners, I like it when we're friends… I like it when I can dream of walls crumbling and… and…" A writer can't find his next word.

"And?" She probes.

"… And I just… I can't find anymore words to tell you what you mean to me." He says in frustration, flicking a paper cup off his coffee table. "Kate, I don't know what will happen tomorrow. I don't know what will happen the next day. For one split second I would like to think that we'd be alright. I can't imagine one day of my life without you in it."

More silence… and then the bell rings.

"Ugh. Hold on, there's someone at the door, probably my mom forgot her keys –"

And there she stands. Soaked to the bone, and before he can even understand it she's on him. Her lips are moist and warm on his. It takes him a few seconds to catch up and realize that he can hug her thin frame that's covered in wet clothes that stick to her skin. She's kissing him as if she was trying to take the life out of him, and she could very well, because his heart is about to break out of his chest.

Her hair is wild and her hands grasp his own, and the kiss deepens to what he thought he would never feel again, after that night so long ago. Her tongue caresses his and he feels like between the surprise of this kiss and the sheer volume of sensation, he might just collapse. She moans and he moans, his hands grabbing on to her and drawing her even closer… And then she breaks for air.

She looks at his lips, and then straight into his eyes, her hand caressing his jaw. She's breathless and soaked. He can't get enough.

"I just came to say that… There's no wall."

He stares at her, deep into her eyes, searching for any hesitation, but there's none. He's checking that he's not coming up with an imagined situation for one of his books, for one of his fantasies. It seems she's finally in the same page of his book.

He moves a strand of hair that hangs in front of her eyes, and caresses her cheek. There's a slight bruise there.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks and her lips kiss his thumb in response.

"I think this is as sure as I'm going to be." She grabs his hand and they both watch their fingers interlace. His rugged knuckles; hers, bruised and delicate. He kisses the back of her hand.

"So many bruises…" He says, tenderly, caressing that finger she fixated so much on those long minutes when everything seemed grim.

"They're just fingers." She dismisses it, still holding his, searching words in his eyes.

"You must be freezing, let me get you a towel." He starts for his room, but she doesn't let go of his hand. He looks at her and she smiles. "Okay. Let's go get you warm."

* * *

She stands in the middle of his room and everything smells like him; that woody aroma that its just so, so him.

"Here." He hands her a big plush towel and signals her to the bathroom. "I'm sure I can get you a bathrobe or something, from Alexis.. or my mom."

She looks at him and then at the floor; she lets a silent chuckle escape.

"Rick… I don't want to get dressed."

She wishes she could bottle the look on his face, and keep it with her. Of all the 'Kid' things Castle does and acts like, this one look of wonderment, it's the one thing she admires the most. He doesn't stop her when the jacket comes off, or her shirt. His wonderment only gets wilder when she rids herself of her boots and unbuckles her belt. Just as she is about to unbutton her pants, he stops her.

"Let me. You know... teamwork."

She smiles and he pulls her by the waist, delicately placing his hands on her soft skin. She can feel his trembling, warm hands causing vibrations to shiver down her torso. She's not cold, but Rick Castle is making her weak.

He unbuttons her jeans and helps her slide them off … and then she suddenly feels like standing in just a few scraps of clothes, she's about to have the most sincere moment with him. There's not so much to hide anymore.

She kisses him, needy, deep and hungry, taking his shirt off and scrapping his sides on the way. She needs him to stop thinking she might break. She needs him to show her it was a great thing to stay alive and break from all the remorse that made her doubt herself. When every garment is off, and all she can feel is him, just his warm skin against hers, she wonders how it is that she always thought this would never happen. Now it feels like this is just what was needed. She can feel that he's still holding back, whether it's caution or doubt, she won't have it.

"I'm here." She says. "I won't dissolve, I won't go away."

He plunges in for a kiss that he never wants to end. He can't get enough and there's so much of her that he hasn't tried. He wants to embed in his mind everything her; like the saltiness of her collarbone, or the soft feel of her nipples against his lips, as they gradually tighten to hard pebbles under his mouth… the sound of the content moan as he softly touches the underside of her breasts with just his fingertips. The path to her navel might be his favorite, or her soft giggles when he places butterfly kisses on a certain patch of skin on the inside of her right hipbone, it makes her skin fill with goose bumps, like magic.

He can smell her, just a few inches from him, and he still can't believe that he's finally here; about to step into all that she has kept behind 'the wall'.

She arches to his touch, full of sensation and need. This is what it must be to feel cherished. An everlasting expression of what words cannot say. She could break apart purely from the emotions that realizing this is making her feel, but she doesn't need to, because he's there, touching her and licking her in all the right places and the warm, thick pressure is settling in her stomach deliciously. Her limbs begin to feel heavy and her heart is drumming a strong and deafening beat behind her ears… And just when she thought he couldn't do any better, he blurts it out.

"You might not think the same, but god, you're more than perfect." And she doesn't know if it's his words or what he's doing to her body so expertly. One more twist of his fingers in her, one more warm and wet kiss to her center and stars explode behind her eyes, make her reach for him, mid-cry. Her instinctive tremors seem to travel every inch of her, to every part of her that he has touched.

He can only admire what he has made her feel. Kate Beckett has finally been set free.

When she comes back down from her high, he's in awe of his effect on her, and her effect on him. As she gradually starts to move on him, like a cat, he remembers that all of his blood has drained to a painful state of arousal. It might get him in trouble if he's not careful. She starts kissing him hungrily and he has to remember to pace her. He wants this to last. If it were up to him this would last forever. He grabs her hands and sets them on his chest. A gleam of confusion passes through her eyes.

"A bit slower, I might be a little on the edge here…" She seems to get the message. She slowly straddles his knees and he realizes how hard it's going to be to hold on just enough for his own standards. She's smiling at him with this sexy little smirk and he might have to resort to the odd thought about baseball to make this last.

"Why do you want to go slower?" She asks while she grabs him carefully but firmly. "We got all the time in the world to play all the games you would want." And before he even realizes, she moves her lips to his mouth, her heat centered directly on his shaft. This is the most delicious prelude. He can feel her wetness just enough, her ragged breath on his lips, and their mingling smells make him dizzy and hungry for more.

"God, I love you." He kisses her deep, grabbing her hips and entering her deeply, in one long, smooth motion, until there's no more of him to fuse. She cries out and he wants to remember it, half groan, half gasp; it's the most erotic and mind-blowing sound he has ever heard.

It's his Kate. She's his now.

She sets the pace. It's slow at first and he's almost praying to hold on, to savor, to last a bit more. He wishes she wasn't this hot, this wet, this amazing woman riding him with such passion. He doesn't ever remember sex feeling like this. He manages to rationalize with himself, that this is not sex. This might be the first time, in the long string of sexual escapades he's had, that he truly understand what he writes about.

He feels amazing in her, on her, around her. With sloppy little kisses on her nipples and the urgency she can feel growing more and more between them; his hands gripping her hips, guiding himself in, deeper and deeper. He hugs her close, as if any space between them is a waste; he mumbles her name and something else she can't understand. He's on the edge and slowly she's getting herself ready to meet him.

"Let go," she says, seeing his forceful and slightly pained expression.

"No, No." He manages to mutter. She grabs his right hand and places it on their union… On her.

"We're together in this. I'll go with you."

There's so much meaning in what she's saying that he can't control himself anymore. Faster and faster and he can feel her tighter and tighter around him. He bites her shoulder when he can't hold it in anymore and he hopes that she also saw the bright light that he felt fill the room as he finally let go.

* * *

His pillows smell like lavender.

She's sure that he did not pick that fabric softener, but she doesn't care, because there's another myriad of smells that she wants to brand in her memory. Like the faint smell of rain and the scent of a burning fire that he must have set up at some point while she slept. The unique aroma of their smells mixed together. It's on her skin and his, as she absently caresses him.

His hand seems large around her waist, but it doesn't seem to feel out of place, it's like it always belonged there. Like a part of her that had been missing. He kisses her shoulder and nuzzles it softly.

"I'm hungry." He says breaking the silence and she chuckles at the casualness of the comment. It's so very 'Castle'.

She turns around and kisses him slow and tentative at first. Then hungrily and oh, so wet, and he feels like this woman could be the end of him.

"Oh, I see what you're saying here…" She punches him softly and he feigns pain. A short peck on his forehead and she gets up to use the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" She chuckles while running the water in the faucet. "You're not leaving, are you?"

There's a slight tinge of fear in his voice. She dries her face and tries to make some sense of her tousled hair.

"What was the trade-off?" And there it is. He thought he had managed to avoid it. "Let's hear it, what was the trade-off?"

"Let's just say that among other unpleasant things, I might be writing made-to-order novels for a 60-yr-old Russian Casanova…" Beckett's expression is a mix of disbelief and amusement. He continues: "There's more to it, but nothing that won't be worth the pain."

She caresses his face and he relishes on the touch.

"Come on, Partner." She says, grabbing his hand and walking him back to the room, his face a bit baffled at her goofy eagerness. "This is New York. There has to be a place where you can get me a cup of joe and a bearclaw at 2am. Aren't you hungry?"

She winks at him and everything is alright.

"For you… always."


End file.
